Having the kids

Lucy’s column for September 16th.
Kidslo…1
It’s debatable who drew the short straw – daughter-in-law Claire, on an adventurous, 12-day trip to South Africa. Or the two of us – part-responsible for the grandchildren while she was away. I say part-responsible, because their dad, our son, Simon, was here, but at work. And my word, did their friends rally when it came to taking them off our hands.
But even so, there was the daunting prospect of catering for, and entertaining, 13-year-old Jacob and nine-year-old Grace, who, together with mum, had gone through lip-trembling farewells at Heathrow, but for the sakes of each other, had put on bold and brave fronts. Never since they were babies, who didn’t care so long as somebody shoved a bottle, or a pot of pureed parsnips, in at one end, and cleaned up the other, over a parents’ weekend away, had we had them for so long.
The first hurdle was our six-hour round-trip journey – yes, the ubiquitous tail-backs – to and from Heathrow, with two youngsters who’d just seen their precious mum off to the land of man-eating lions, being fractious and falling out, over whose turn with the I-Pod, tally of Eddie Stobart lorries, choice of granny-labour-saving take-aways when we eventually hit Derby, (Chinese or chippy – no contest, according to each of them, so long as one had the crispy duck and the other the battered cod), and who won the grandparental double bed, all to themselves.
As it happened, Grace won the Stobart contest, Jacob the bed, granny lost out on the food front by conjuring up something yummy in the egg-and-chip pan. And granddad took several hours to calm down from driving seat road rage, placated eventually by a home-made-chips buttie.
But for all that, they were stars. All of them.
For Claire, a teacher at Silverhill School, Mickleover, it was a privileged trip of a lifetime, on a teacher exchange at a school in Durban. It must have been enough leaving behind Simon, Jacob and Grace, but facing a 15-hour journey, alone, with a flight change at Johannesburg, borders on the scary. Coupled with that, she felt nauseous all the way there, and was physically sick during the flight back. She missed her husband and kids for the entire duration. And what could be worse – conducting assembly for nigh-on 800 pupils, or eye-balling a hyena in the dead of night, during a trip to the loo on a weekend safari?
On the up-side, Claire, a dyed-in-the-wool professional, following both parents and grandmother into teaching, claims she had the experience of a lifetime, and loved every moment of the interest, questions, inquisitiveness, and affection, she provoked from the Durban youngsters. As for her own children – I can say, as a grandma, they were an absolute credit in terms of behaviour, fun, bravado, and stoicism.
On the down-side, they breakfasted on chocolate donuts and Coca-Cola between fried-egg sandwiches and beans-on-toast, and ran me ragged round the shops – Grace insisting on real mother-disapproving glittery eye-shadow, which resulted in what looked like styes, and Jacob demanding to go-it-alone in the Westfield Centre, where he spent over an hour – and twenty quid – perusing books.
Family friends Janet, Sue, Marie-Louise, and school-friend Isobel, provided pleasure–filled days for Grace, and Jacob had a super sleep-over with pal and fellow-Scout Matthew. Grace and I enjoyed girly shopping and chatty nights, Jacob and granddad took over the TV and computer without anybody yelling "You’ll get square eyes and a mushy brain."
As for Simon, he played a blinder. On the nights they stayed at home, he dragged down every duvet, pillow, cushion, they possessed, forming what resembled a Bedouin tent, and there they lay, together with the cat, munching pizzas and watching dvds. Claire – feel free to roam the world. Safe in the knowledge that your kids are happy – though not necessarily healthy!
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